


Obelisong [ Deliverer ]

by EphemeralTheories



Series: too much heart [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelic Grace, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Hurt/Comfort, Samandriel Lives, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:10:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EphemeralTheories/pseuds/EphemeralTheories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch remained a conduit of uncertainty to Samandriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obelisong [ Deliverer ]

**Author's Note:**

> I found this unfinished drabble of Castiel and Samandriel in my files and decided to finish it. Forever a fan of the most adorable angel in the garrison.  
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/amgedpha) and let's cry about Samandriel.

A steady hand inched forward, only stopping when a palm rested upon Castiel’s hand. Touch remained a conduit of uncertainty to Samandriel, his most recent experience with physical contact being torture at the hands of the King of Hell. 

Castiel had been so patient with him, teaching the angel that touch was not something to fear, to avoid. Even if Samandriel would sometimes flinch when Castiel reached toward him, Castiel understood that an angel blade to the chest would take time to recover from. 

Yet, when Samandriel initiated contact, Castiel was quick to allow the younger control, something he imagined one would crave after what Samandriel had gone through.

When fingers brushed Castiel’s skin, he gave easily beneath the angel’s touch. The hand inched up his forearm, finger tips lightly tracing the scars Castiel’s form collected since his grace was stolen. He was amazed that Samandriel still trusted him, to be this close to him, after Castiel nearly killed him. He marveled at how the angel still cared for him, even though he was no longer a being of celestial intent.

Castiel watched as the other’s blue eyes narrowed when he discovered every new mark. A slight frowned pulled at the angel’s features. Samandriel shook his head lightly.

“Your form bears many marks, Castiel.” Samandriel began, voice even — distant, like an angel’s should be. Then, his eyes widened, gaze trained on Castiel with something akin to curiosity shining in them. His next statement was less direct, edging more upon a request. “Allow me to help you.”

Castiel’s initial response was to object, and he did just so. He, certainly, after all he had done, was not worthy of the touch of an angel — of Samandriel’s efforts to heal, when Castiel only brought harm.

“You should reserve your strength, Samandriel.” Castiel said with a shake of his head, “My scars are not worth the exertion of your grace.”

Samandriel’s spine straightened and his grip on Castiel’s wrist tightened at the man’s response. Blue eyes hardened their gaze as he locked eyes with the former angel before him. The determination in the angel’s gaze rocked Castiel, even as he nodded, giving into the younger’s unspoken demand. 

Having been so uncertain before, Castiel was surprised by how confident the angel seemed, turning the palm of Castiel’s hand over in his grasp, and how malleable he was to Samandriel’s guidance. 

The tendrils of cool energy — of grace — Samandriel’s grace — raised the hair all over his body and Castiel knew some line was crossed here, in allowing Samandriel to be this intimate with a human, with him.

He didn’t stop Samandriel, though. He would give anything to the angel — anything to make up for what he’d done — for what Samandriel sacrificed for him, for what faith the angel had in him. 

So, the older man kept his eyes on Samandriel as he continued to work, the pleasant hum of the other’s grace soothing to the silence he believed he would never grow accustomed to. The angel continued, hands moving to Castiel’s forearms, only stopping when the rolled up sleeve of his button down halted his progress.

Samandriel tilted his head at the article, revoking his touch from Castiel’s form, eyes narrowed as he seemed to contemplate how to proceed.

“I would request that you remove your shirt, Castiel.” Samandriel said simply, the shifting of his weight a visual indicator of his uncertainty, uncertainty that Castiel was dedicated to eradicating from his existence. “I know what scars rest where your wings once were.”

Castiel’s own hands came to his aid, acting when his voice failed him — unbuttoning the shirt he wore, casting it aside — if only to appease the angel who graced him with his presence — if only to have the hum of celestial power run through his veins again.

Samandriel took a breath, one Castiel isn’t quite sure he was aware of, before nodding and moving out of the former angel’s line of sight. He couldn't see the younger angel, but he could feel Samandriel hovering behind him — and the cool palms easing onto his shoulder blades.

Castiel could feel Samandriel’s grace bleeding into his form, and there was no uncertainty now — not in the power, the celestial intent resting a veil away from his consciousness.

The former angel could feel the skin stitch itself back together under Samandriel’s instruction, the scars fading into an unspoiled canvas beneath the angel’s fingertips. Samandriel was no doubt squinting, meticulous in his work — akin to how he guided the hands of artists when Heaven was home to him.

Samandriel leaned forward, his presence nearly overbearing when he spoke quietly into Castiel’s ear. “This wound on your neck. It was a hair’s breadth from mortally so.” The angel sighed then — fingertips dragging across the marks — and the sigh that parted his lips in tandem was all Castiel could do not to tense at the action.

Then, Samandriel was before him again, tilting Castiel’s head up to run his hand along his jawline and the former angel pretended not to notice the slight smile that crossed Samandriel’s features when he placed two fingers together and brushed them along Castiel’s hairline — a flesh wound melding together under his touch.

The angel’s eyes dropped to Castiel’s mouth then, and Castiel couldn't hide his surprised when a thumb was ran over his bottom lip. He inhaled sharply at the contact, his once dry and cracked mouth soothed by grace.

The sound caught Samandriel off guard, as evident by how he moved to repeat the action, whereas this time Castiel gave no response.

“I forget how sensitive humans are to touch.” Samandriel commented, something bordering on curiosity in his tone. “It’s very interesting,” the angel continued, placing a hand on Castiel’s bicep, to emphasize some point.

Castiel swallowed.

“Your skin is warm to touch, yet, my vessel displays chills. — The sensation is… thought provoking.” Samandriel continued, looking directly into Castiel’s eyes then, searching for something, something Castiel wasn’t sure either of them could name. “I knew you in Heaven, Castiel. Is touch required to know you on earth?”

Castiel wasn’t given a chance to answer, a knock on the door to his assigned room and a shout from Dean had him pulling his shirt back on, pressing the younger angel into his form and whispering a promise he didn’t intend to break.

“You are the only one who can truly know me. As it was in Heaven, so be it on earth.”

And then, Castiel was out the door.


End file.
